


You do not yield

by AlyaG



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: BTW they rescue her pretty soon, Basically Nessian ACOMAF, Comfort, Enjoy Nesta discovering herself, Feyre Archeron & Cassian Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Minor Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Nesta Archeron-centric, Nesta Archeron/Cassian Fluff, Nesta Archeron/Cassian Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, happiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyaG/pseuds/AlyaG
Summary: Nesta has been abducted by the Illyrian rebels that want her brother in law dead.She doesn't want to give up.It might not be her choice.Btw I love comments so please.Also all chapter titles are song titles in case you wonder why they sound familiar.





	1. Prologue

It wasn't working. They all knew it.  
Cassian knew it. Feyre knew it. Rhysand knew it. And Nesta definitely knew it.  
The Illyrian Mountains were beautiful; they spoke to her soul in ways that no one seemed to understand, but they coudn't save her the way that her sister wanted her to be saved. The way she knew she couldn't be saved. Not that she was actually trying. She couldn't care less about everything around her. Not even Elain was able to make her feel anything, even if she still acted as if protecting her sister was her main goal in life.  
So, when Feyre asker her to take a stroll with her, she agreed only out of the need to avoid Cassian's stare-which had been following her nonstop ever since she arrived at the war camp.  
Feyre led the way, carefully stroking her belly, and Nesta knew that she was pregnant even though she hadn't said anything about it. Her sister's flying leathers stood out in the snow, and Nesta looked away. She hadn't even tried on her own leathers.  
Suddenly, in the middle of the forest, Feyre stopped and turned around to look at her.  
"I can't help you if you don't let me", she said.  
"Who says I need help?"  
"Nesta..."  
"Fine. Who says I want it?"  
Her sister's face crumbled, and her skin became pail."Nesta, I can't stand aside and watch you kill yourself."  
She didn't answer. She knew she should be feeling something, but she wasn't. Not even the bitter anger that overtook her from time to time; only that dreadful nothingness some part of her detested.  
"Feyre...", she began, but a noise behind her made her become silent. Her sister's eyes were wide open, and Nesta turned around to see thirty men-no, not men, but males, Illyrian males, watching them carefully.  
"Rebels" Feyre whispered in her mind. "Rhys tole me they were having issues with some of the camps."  
Nesta nodded. She remembered Cassian saying something similar.  
"There's too many of them, even for me", her sister carried on."You need to run back to camp and..."  
"I'm not pregnant", Nesta responded."Where is that mate of yours?"  
"He's busy; they haven't appeared only here".  
In the seconds during which that silent conversation happened, the males had approached them. The leader, tall, dark and smug, smiled at them.  
"Hello", he said. "My name is Igraine, and I'll be taking you hostage."  
"No, you won't" Feyre said, fiercely, as she always was. Nesta couldn't let her be harmed. Not again. So she spoke.  
"At least not both of us." Igraine looked at her, so she kept going: "If you hurt her, the High Lord will obliterate your camp. He will not care about how it looks; he'll just do it." It wasn't quite true, but she was desperate. "She's his mate, and High Lady. I'm just his sister-in-law. He won't loose his mind about my disappearance, and you will still have some leverage over him."  
"Stop", Feyre screamed in her mind, her powers stirring. Nesta willed her own power, the death inside of her, to act, and her sister's became somewhat restrained.  
"You can't kill them all in time, and we can't run. This is the best option."  
"I like this female," Igraine smiled."She has a point, too. Will you come willingly?"  
Nesta didn't hesitate. "Yes".  
And so she did, Feyre screaming behind her, Lord Devlon's camp on fire far away, and Cassian... too late to help.  
"I'm sorry" she whispered to no one in particular.  
She was already in the air when she heard-no, felt- Cassian's roar.


	2. The importance of being idle.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ SEMI-GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF RAPE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ SEMI-GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF RAPE.

Cassian stopped feeling anything after a while. Feyre had cut her hands fighting the warriors who had taken Nesta, so he cleaned her wounds while she spoke. He felt strange, almost drunk, as if he wasn't able to focus on anything. Somehow, when Feyre stopped talking, he had managed to take in what she'd said, even though he hadn't been paying attention.  
Rhys was looking at her, as he always was, but Azriel, who had appeared at some point during Feyre's story, was staring at him. Mor, too. He didn't meet their gazes and looked at what was left of a small cabin.  
"She sacrificed herself for me, Rhys,"Feyre continued after a few seconds of silence."We have to rescue her."  
"We don't know where she is" Mor said, carefully, still looking at him.  
"I can find her" he heard himself say. Rhys stared at him, but didn't say anything.  
"We don't know what we'll find," Mor said." This attack was completely unexpected, but obviously planned. We didn't know they were so far into planning a war. We need to be prepared."  
"She saved us," Feyre whispered, hand on her stomach, and Cassian suddenly understood. Nesta had protected not only her sister, but her sister's unborn child. Rhys' unborn child. He felt a chill down his spine.  
"We'll get her back" Mor said, taking Feyre's hand.  
"Yes, we will", his High Lady agreed.  
Azriel was still watching him.  
****  
It was dark.  
It was dark, and her head hurt.  
She was cold, too, and she felt stone beneath her hands. She was probably in a cell somewhere in Illyria, though she couldn't remember. One of the warriors must've knocked her out, she thought. She tried to stand up, but the ceiling was too low. She crawled around and found that the space around her was very small, and that there was no door. For a moment, she thought that she was back in the Cauldron, but then she found the door on the ceiling, wooden and hard.  
She was in a hole. She almost laughed out loud. She knew she should be afraid, but she wasn't. She couldn't.  
Somewhere deep inside she was glad her sister was safe, but mostly, the nothingness still reigned.  
She sat with her back against the wall and waited, alone with her thoughts. She wanted a drink. She wanted...something. A small part of her craved company. Elain, Amren, Cassian... Even Rhysand would do.  
At some point, she heard voices, but she didn't get her hopes up. As she had imagined, no one came. It was basic strategy; isolate your prisoners to loosen their tongues. She'd read about it in one of the books she had stolen from Cassian. She had been surprised to see just how large his collection was; it was difficult to imagine him saying still long enough to read a book. Maybe the times when he was injured.  
She closed her eyes and lost track of time.  
Not that it mattered anyway.

An hour, two or three later, someone opened the door. Nesta was glad that her eyes were cosed when the light filled the room. She didn't move at all, allowing whoever it was to fall into the hole before opening her eyes.  
"Hello, wildling", Igraine said, and Nesta finally looked at him.  
The hole was barely big enough for his wings, and the light touching his face made him look like a messenger from the heavens. He was wearing Illyrian leathers, and he was grinning. It seemed to be his natural expression.  
"Hello", she heard herself answer, her tone as emotionless as it had been since the war. "I expect you have come to ask about my sister's mate."  
"Indeed".  
"I don't know much about him".  
"And what about his general?"Nesta felt her body tense. "Rumor has it that you're very close to him".  
She didn't answer.  
"I'll come back tomorrow, then", he said, and he climbed out of the hole. Before closing the door again, he dropped a skin full of water in front of her.  
"Goodbye", she whispered once he was gone.  
****  
They couldn't just barge into the camp. Cassian knew that. His rational mind did, anyway. He just wished that the part of him that had been roaring ever since Nesta had been taken knew it as well.  
Elain had arrived, brought by Azriel, and she insisted to be a part of the discussion even though all she did was watch and listen. Her presence soothed him, somehow, because she was very similar to Nesta; they possessed the same kind of quiet love that broke his heart, even though Elain's was calm and sweet where Nesta's was raw and fiery.  
Azriel seemed to be always watching, looking for cracks, for sentiment, and for the error that came with it.  
Feyre started to touch him a lot more; a hand on his shoulder, a pat in the back... He feared she would start hugging him every time she saw him if Nesta spent more than a week gone. It was nice, though, having her around, the sister and friend he loved.  
Morrigan didn't seem to know that something had happened. She acted as if she didn't know that he cared for Nesta, as she had always done, but he was too preoccupied figuring out how to rescue his fiery viper to mind.  
He started seeing her everywhere. She'd only spent a few weeks in the camp, but her presence seemed to linger, like a ghost that tore through his heart. He missed her. Somehow, he managed to miss even her meanest moments. He would let her words poison him to death if it meant that she was with him. Safe.  
Knowing that she wasn't safe was the worst of it. He sometimes wondered if it had been like this for Rhys back when Feyre was still at the Spring Court.  
"Tomorrow", Mor concluded after a long meeting. "We'll go tomorrow."  
Too late, he thought, for some reason. Too late.  
****  
When Nesta woke up, Igraine was back. The look in his eyes was one she new all too well. The one men usually had in front of her, the one Tomas had had when he'd tried to...  
That meant that he'd been given permission to do something to her that he would find arousing. Probably horrible, she thought, but she still didn't feel anything.  
"Good morning, wildling" he said. "Are you ready to talk about the general?"  
"Sure", she shrugged, "but all I can tell you are his bathing habits."  
Igraine laughed, and the small part that still cared about what happened to her winced.  
"Do you know what I'm about to of to you?" he asked.  
"Rape me,"she answered, surprising even herself when she heard the ice in her tone. He smiled.  
"Well, yes, I'll be doing that. Before I watch my men do it as well."  
She didn't allow herself to flinch at the thought, which he apparently found terribly hilarious.  
"Are you looking forward to it?" he mocked.  
"No," she answered. "What I'm looking forward to is what I will do to you once I'm free."  
She let out a bitter laugh, and then he was on top of her, holding her hands with one to his and stripping her naked.  
She forced herself to laugh the entire time.  
She laughed through the second one, too.  
By the time the fourth one got to her, she wasn't laughing anymore, and she found that she cared more than she'd thought.  
She lost count after the eighth one.


	3. Half the world away

Cassian had been wanting to throw up for a while now.  
The raid had been successful, yes, but they hadn't found Nesta yet. Feyre was running around, hands on her belly, Elain at her side, both of them looking worried sick. Rhys followed them around with his gaze, clearly restraining himself from doing so physically in order to stay and listen to Mor's report.  
Cascan sighed and breathed in, deeply.  
And he started walking.  
At first, he didn't know where he was going, but then it became clear that his instincts did. He let them lead, and found himself in the woods, standing before a wooden door on the ground. They had put her in a hole, he thought. For that alone, he would kill them, but the feeling of dread in his gut told him he had something worse coming his way.  
Suddenly, Feyre was beside him, lifting the wooden door. He managed to think that she shouldn't do that on her own before the door gave in, and he heard a sound that he instantly knew he would never forget.  
It was Nesta. And she was crying.  
He looked down and saw her, stark naked and hugging herself, looking at nothing and making small, defenseless noises that would never leave his heart.  
When Feyre jumped into the hole and to her sister's side, he noticed blood between Nesta's thighs, and he stopped breathing for a few seconds. The same blinding, hot rage that had led to him slaying the camp that had killed his mother appeared now, and...  
"Cassian", Feyre called, and he looked at his High Lady. She was also crying silently, trying to lift Nesta. "Help me."  
He reacted and lowered himself to her side. Nesta whimpered when he approached her and he jumped away.  
"I don't think I should touch her", he forced himself to say, even though every muscle in his body was screaming at him to hold her and comfort her. He wanted to go find a cloak for her, but his feet wouldn't move and he realized he couldn't leave her alone. He crouched next to her and offered his hand. She didn't even look at him.  
"Nesta", he whispered while Feyre caressed her arm and fashioned a blanket to cover her out of thin air. "Nesta, sweetheart."  
She looked at him, tears streaming down her face.  
"Sweetheart, can you sit?" he asked. She shook her head no. "Can I help you do it?"  
She stopped to consider it and then shook her head again. She did let her sister help her, though, and she covered herself and hugged herself and his heart broke all over again. He wanted to beat himself up for not being there, for taking so long to come, but he couldn't. He had to get her out of there, he had to take her somewhere safe, he had to...  
She stood up.  
Nesta stood up.  
This broken, raw, violated thing had found strength somewhere deep inside to stand up and get out of the hole, and he knew then that there was nothing she could ever do that would make him stop caring about her.  
He accepted this realization as something unavoidably true, and he got out of the hole himself. Nesta was leaning on her sister, barely walking, and he wanted to carry her. He didn't try, though. He didn't want her to whimper in fear of him ever again, so he followed them silently.  
"I'm going to take her back to our camp" Feyre said, without looking at him, "and clean her."  
"I'm coming" he said, barely containing a shiver at the word 'clean'. Now she did look at him. Before she could begin to refuse, he added: "I'll stay outside, but I'm coming. I have to".  
So he did.  
****  
Water felt nice.  
Water felt clean.  
She was surrounded by water. She liked it.  
Someone-Feyre- had washed the blood away, and she was floating on a clean bath in a big house, looking out the window to the sky.  
She heard voices outside, and she felt a warm presence below the window, watching out for her. A name came to mind, but she didn't want it associated with the way she felt inside, so she went back to watching the sun.  
Between the washing and the current bath, Rhysand's healer had come to look at her. Her eyes had been wide open for a few seconds when she had looked between her legs, but she hand's said a word. She'd simply applied something to her wounds, given her a potion and told her sister to not leave her alone.  
She was alone, though.  
She let her body slip until her head was under the water and she closed her eyes. She wasn't thinking of death, she just wanted everything to stop.  
She stayed there until Elain barged in and forced her out of the water.  
"Nes.." she said, like she hadn’t since they were children. "Nes, don't do that, please."  
She didn't answer, but she allowed her sister to take her out and dry her before dressing her.  
"Do you want to sleep?" Elain asked. She shook her head; if she slept, she knew she would have nightmares.  
"Hungry?" Elain tried again, but there was nothing she could do to help her. There was nothing anyone could do to help her.  
Elain helped her downstairs, and she found herself in a big, beautiful room that was the entire first floor of the house. It was filled with soft places to sit, and a carpet covered the floor. On her left, Rhysand's inner circle sat. Feyre was beside her mate, his arm around her. The shadowsinger stood by the corner, looking outside, and Morrigan was at her sister's side, holding her hand. Nesta didn't bother to say hello, but avoided them and walked outside, not caring about the cold, Elain at her side.  
"You'll get sick" Elain said, and she received no answer.  
Nesta walked around the house and saw him, still standing below the window, still watching. Cassian. His name hit her like a hammer. She approached him and he looked at her. For once, there was no wariness in his eyes. Only compassion. Not pity, but compassion. As always, he knew.  
She got as close as her fear would let her, and looked him in the eye. She knew she had nothing to fear from him, even if her body didn't. She held out her hand, and he took it, slowly and without a word. She turned around and walked back into the house, and he followed, their hands still entangled, Elain still at her side.  
She left him downstairs with his brothers and her sisters and went back upstairs. She then fell onto the first bed she found and stayed there, not sleeping but not fully awake either, staring at nothing and everything at once.  
****  
Azriel was staring at him.  
It had become a habit by now, those piercing eyes on him, assessing him, waiting for him to break.  
"Do we have Igraine?" Feyre asked, and Rhys nodded. "Good", she said, and then she looked at him. "He's hers to kill."  
Cassian nodded. He knew that much. As much as he hated it, he knew.  
"She's going to get so much worse", his High Lady whispered, sadness tainting her features.  
"Maybe", Elain cut in, walking up to her sister to touch her shoulder. Azriel's eyes left him to look at her. Elain looked right back at him and kept going: "Nesta has always been one to break before she bends. She's broken. The only way to go is up."  
'She's broken'.  
Those words hurt him.  
"We were too late", he whispered before realizing it. "We were too late. We should've moved sooner."  
"We couldn't," Mor said, and he hated her because she was right. "They would have seen it coming. This was the only way to get her back alive."  
Elain glared at her. Yes, she glared, and she looked so much like Nesta that his heart ached.  
"I think Nesta wishes we hadn't found her alive. Or at all," she said, and Mor looked down, Feyre winced and he closed his eyes in agony.  
"We should kill them all", a new voice said, and they all turned to see Amren walk in. She didn't look happy. "We should kill them all and make her a carpet with their skins."  
For once, Cassian found himself inclined to agree with her.  
"We should let her do it", Azriel intervened, very quietly, staring at him again as if his words were directed only at him.  
Amren looked at all of them, her gaze lingering momentarily on Cassian, before she turned to the stairs and went up to her friend.  
Cassian hoped it was something good.


	4. Wonderwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update guys

Amren. Amren was there. She stood by her bed, looking taller than she was like she always did, and staring down at her with a frown darkening her flawless features.  
“Laying down feeling sorry for yourself won’t help you”, she said, but her tone was a tad softer than usual. Nesta didn’t bother to answer. She didn’t even look at her. Amren frowned even more and tilted her head to the side.  
“Nesta”, Amren said, obviously expecting some kind of answer, but Nesta found she couldn’t for the life of her gather the energy required to respond. “Fine”, her friend finally said, and she turned around and left. Another one, thought Nesta. Another one who knew it wasn’t worth it.  
Even though she knew those thoughts were bullshit, she wasn’t able to stop them, so she buried her head in the pillow and closed her eyes, knowing full well she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but craving the darkness it brought her.  
Some time later, she thought she heard music.  
****

When Amren came back down, the look on her face told Cassian all he needed to know.  
“Fuck”, he mumbled. Amren looked at him.  
“Fuck indeed”, she answered, putting a hand to her chin and turning to talk to Feyre. “We’ll let her be for a few days and try again.”  
“ _You’re_ telling us to not push things?” Rhys asked, blatantly dumbfounded, and Amren nodded.  
“We tried pushing her”, she said. “It didn’t work.”  
Since everyone seemed to agree, they left it there. Once he was alone with his thoughts, he felt the need to do something, anything, to stop himself from feeling, from thinking, from finding Igraine and-  
“I can smell your anger from a room away, boy”, said Amren, walking back into the room. Cassian didn’t answer, choosing to keep on adjusting his knives. Amren stopped by his side and but her hands to her hips.  
“It’s not your revenge”, she whispered, probably so Nesta wouldn’t hear her. “You have to control your anger and be there for her if she needs you.”  
That calmed him. Somehow. So he nodded. He would find the way to be calm, in case she needed him. The urge to kill Igraine wasn’t and would never be as strong as the need to be there for her.  
Apparently content with his answer, Amren sat down on the ground and took a flute out of her boot. Even though he had never seen it before, Cassian somehow knew it was hers, so he wasn’t surprised when she began playing it.  
She’ll know she’s not alone, he thought, and he felt a little better. He moved to sit closer to the stairs and closed his eyes, listening to Amren’s song and concentrating on his breathing. He barely moved for hours, or maybe even days, he didn't know. All he knew was that he could hear her breathe, and as long as she did, there was hope. For now, that was enough.

He was still sitting by the stairs when he heard her move around and get up, and he struggled to maintain a pretense of normalcy when he heard her coming down the stairs and forced himself to not look at her.  
"Is Rhysand here?" was the first thing she asked, and Cassian realized that it was the first time that he could remember hearing her call his brother by his name.  
“Yes”, he answered, his tone cautiously soft. “He'll be back in a few hours; he's gone somewhere with your sister.”  
Nesta nodded slowly, as if she were getting used to her body after a long period of inactivity. And he supposed she was.  
“Armen was here” she continued speaking, none of the sharpness that was usual in her appearing in her tone.  
“Yes, I know”, he answered. “She played some music; did you hear it?” She nodded, and part of him couldn’t believe that the most civilized conversation he’d ever had with her was under such circumstances.  
“It was...”she began, and frowned slightly, apparently not knowing how to describe it. Finally, her face returned to the indifference she had displayed since she had come down and she finished the sentence: “...surprisingly calming.”  
He let out a soft laugh, and she looked at him, obviously shocked at his reaction. Had he ever laughed like that in front of her? He didn’t think so.  
“Our Amren is not known for being calm” he explained, and she opened her mouth to answer when a soft yet threatening voice interrupted them:  
“Are you badmouthing me again, you empty-headed bat?”  
Amren walked into the room, and Cassian felt his soft expression turn into a grin.  
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare, darling Tiny Ancient One; I was just describing your delightfully determined character”  
Amren hissed at him and then turned to Nesta.  
“It’s good to see you standing up, girl.”  
“I need to talk to Rhysand” Nesta answered, not quite an explanation, and shrugged. She looked around, and Amren must have read her mind, for she answered her unasked question:  
“She’s not here. She went home to get some things”. And of course she was talking about Elain. Nesta nodded and went to sit down in a couch next to his, where she remained silent until they heard-and felt-Rhys and Feyre arrive.  
Nesta got up again and waited for them to come in, her face indifferent and her hands holding each other as if she were seeking comfort. When her sister and brother in law opened the door, she spoke almost immediately:  
“Rhysand” her voice was soft but it demanded attention, so Rhys approached her and stared while his mate sat beside Cassian, looking at him for an explanation, but he had none.  
“Yes, Nesta?” His brother answered.  
“Do you have him?” She asked, and no one in the room needed to ask who she was referring to. Rhys nodded. “Good”, she said, lowering her eyes momentarily before looking at Rhys again. “Good. You can’t kill him, of course.”  
“And why is that?” Rhys asked, the wariness he showed in front of strangers back in his face. “One would think you wanted him dead.”  
“I do”, she answered, her face unfeeling and her voice flat. “But if we kill him now, he’ll be a martyr. He’ll be a glorious death for the Illyrian cause.” And that, to Nesta, would be the worst outcome possible.  
“You win this war”, she said to her brother in law. “And once you’re done, I’ll kill him.”  
Rhys nodded. “He’s yours to kill.”  
Nesta seemed to think for a minute before she nodded once and turned around.  
“What will you do until then?” Feyre asked, frowning slightly. Nesta looked at her with a new softness that hadn’t been there before and shrugged.  
“I’m leaving”, was her only answer.


	5. The one that got away

It was clear to everyone that Feyre thought that her sister was making a mistake. Even so, she stood by and let her pack her things once they found themselves in the House of Wind. Elain was sitting on her older sister's bed, studying her with that unexpectedly sharp gaze of hers. Feyre, standing with her hip against the door, was frowning, while her mate lurked outside with his brothers.  
"Nesta" Feyre called, and she moved her gaze from her bag to her sister's face. "I think this is a bad idea."  
"I know", Nesta answered, her eyes unmoving. "I'm still going to do it." Unlike many other times when her actions had been questioned by her sister, this time she remained calm, her voice low and devoid of emotion. She wasn't angry or upset by her sister's opinion, and maybe that was why Feyre stopped pursuing the matter and took a knife out of her boot. Why she was carrying it was beyond Nesta.  
"Here", her sister said, handing her the knife. "Just in case."  
Nesta stared at it for a second before grabbing it and nodding in thanks. She put it in her bag, but her sister raised her hand for her to stop and proceeded to take off her belt, which held a scabbard. Nesta took it, put it on and put away the knife.  
“Do you know where you’re going?” Feyre asked, and she shook her head no. “Then you should take a map too”.  
And so she left to get one, leaving Nesta and Elain on their own. Nesta looked at her little sister, expecting some sort of reaction-an objection, a plea for her to stay…-but Elain simply said: “I’ll be fine now.” She meant that Nesta no longer had to worry about her; she had Feyre, and Rhysand, and that shadowsinger that seemed to have named himself her guardian-or friend, Nesta thought. Maybe the first one Elain had ever had.  
“I know”, Nesta answered, because she did know that her sister was speaking the truth.  
“You must find your own neutral ground”, was Elain’s only reply.  
Nesta closed her bag and hanged it from her back. Getting up, Elain approached her and kissed both her cheeks. “Say goodbye to him”, she whispered, and Nesta didn’t need to ask who she was talking about to know.  
“Maybe I will”.  
Feyre came back and handed the map to her sister, and Nesta but it in her boot. She had been convinced to finally leave her comfortable slippers for some sturdy boots Morrigan had given her. Well, she had given them to her sister, and her sister had passed them along.  
Walking slowly, Nesta nodded towards Morrigan and Azriel and came closer to Amren.  
“I’m leaving”, she said, as if it weren’t completely obvious. Amren stared at her for a few endless moments before answering: “Be careful, child. You know where to find me if you need me.”  
“I do.” Then, she turned towards him.  
Cassian was looking at her. Lately, it seemed he always was. She approached him and looked up, and their eyes locked.  
“You’re really going”, he said, joining the Obvious Statements Club, and she nodded. “Call me if you need me. I’ll hear you.”  
He seemed so sure of himself that she had to put her hand on the side of his face. His eyebrows rose slightly, and she let herself smile—faintly. Then, she got up on the tips of her toes and planted a soft, featherlight kiss on his lips—so similar to the one they’d shared on the edge of death not so long ago they both stopped breathing for a second. When time began passing again, she stepped back and turned around to look at her brother in law.  
“I want to see him”, she said to the only person in the room she knew would never coddle her. “Igraine. I want to see him before I go.”  
Rhysand nodded, face solemn, and offered her his hand. Nesta looked at Feyre and Elain one more time before taking it, and the love she saw on their faces somehow filled her heart with courage.

The second she took Rhysand’s hand, she became darkness. And just as quickly, she was a person again, standing in front of a locked cage. Inside the cage, the face that had been plaguing her nightmares was staring back at her.  
“Well, well, if it isn’t the wildling” Igraine said, his voice still a purr, still raising the hairs at the back of her head.  
“You’re not going to die”, she said, ignoring him and her own reactions. She felt Rhysand by her side, for once on her side, a friendly force and power willing to kill the male in front of them in an instant. “Not yet”, she continued. “First, you’ll watch your people fall. The ones who support you and believe in the same things you believe in will be slaughtered, and when you’re the last one, when you know that everything is lost and there is no going back, you’ll beg me to take your life.”  
Something in her tone must’ve given away the void she felt inside, because for once, his face was completely serious when he asked: “And will you?”  
She tilted her head and gave him a slow, deliberately ambiguous smile.  
“Are you looking forward to it?” She threw his own words back at him, and he laughed.  
“I’m starting to believe I am”, was his answer, and suddenly she couldn’t bear to look at him for another second, and so she grabbed Rhysand’s hand and told him to take her away.  
“Where?” He asked, his voice in a soft tone that had never been heard before in her presence.  
“Anywhere.”  
Rhysand obeyed, and suddenly they were nothing, and then they were everything again. Rhysand stepped away from her and they found themselves looking at each other, truly alone for the first time.  
“Where are we?” She asked, and he pointed at a distant mountain.  
“We’re in the middle. No one´s land. That’s the Mountain.”  
“Where Feyre fought that queen”, she said, and he nodded. “No one lives here?”  
“Not anymore”, he shrugged. “An ancient creature used to live in a cabin somewhere around here, but she was killed in the war.”  
“Seems suitable for me”.  
“I thought so.”  
“Because I’m empty inside?” She asked, her tone mocking, and he let out a startled laugh, like he couldn’t believe he found her to be funny.  
“Goodbye, Rhysand”, she said, and he nodded at her.  
“Goodbye, sister”, he answered, clearly mocking, but she smiled at him and he softened his tone when he added: “You know where to find me.”  
Me. Not us. Me.  
He smiled again, and then he was gone. Nesta looked around and began walking.

She found the cabin not long after, when the sun had begun to hide behind the horizon. She could feel the power coming out of it, flowing through the air, cutting it, like a current of oil in a river. It was banishing, and decadent, but just enough to keep other creatures away. So Nesta decided to settle there for now. Maybe forever. The future was uncertain, and she could do whatever she wanted for the rest of it. It felt scary, of course, but not as hopeless as it used to.  
She realized that she had been acting as if she were trapped—by her sisters, by the Night Court—when truly, she could’ve walked away at any point.  
Nesta entered the small house, and she found a spinning wheel, old and practically broken, many shelves containing an endless multitude of objects and an irrational amount of hay. She gathered the hay and covered it with a thick, large skin she had brought, making a bed that was completed when she took out her blanket and laid it out on top of the mattress. She took her clothes out of her bag and put them in a miraculously empty shelf, before beginning to explore the others. There were so many objects it was impossible to count them, and the energy coming out from some of them told her it was better to leave them alone. However, a small bracelet caught her attention. It was orange, and it had yellow, small rocks attached to it, so it would fit someone of a darker complexion than hers, but she put it on anyway. She felt she would need it.  
Once she was settled, she let herself fall on her makeshift bed and closed her eyes.


	6. Melancholy Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days—don’t complain ; ).

Cassian woke early in the morning, feeling unsettled and not knowing why. And then he remembered. Nesta was alone, somewhere in Prythian. Rhys had refused to tell them where, pointing out that she would find them if she wanted to, and barricading himself in his and Feyre’s room to avoid further questioning.  
He got up and went down to get some breakfast. He found Mor and Azriel eating together, with Elain serving as a buffer between them as she happily talked to his brother about the garden for the Riverhouse.   
“Hello, ladies” he said, smiling broadly at both of the females in the room. “I trust you’ve slept soundly”.  
“You certainly haven’t”, Mor said, looking very intensely at him. “Still worried about Nesta?”  
Cassian sighed. When aren’t I, he wondered.  
“She’ll be alright” Elain said, with that tone that had become synonym with her ability to actually know the outcome of certain events. “She’ll meet someone today”.  
“Who?” Cassian couldn’t help but ask. Just then, Lucien walked in, and Elain looked at him.  
“Someone you already know”, she answered, still staring at Lucien, who in return was pointedly avoiding her gaze. Well that’s a nice change, Cassian thought. Maybe we’ll even get to see the fox blush.  
Feyre came down shortly after, grabbed a tray and stated that Rhys was still hiding.  
“Alright, alright, I get it”, Cassian said. “I’ll go fuck off for a while.”  
“Please do”, Mor said. “Go compare your wingspan to some arrogant Illyrians”.  
Cassian smiled to himself and jumped out of the window, realizing only after he became airborne that he had forgotten to eat.   
*****

Nesta woke up very hungry, for some reason. She remembered she didn’t have food, so she wandered out of the cabin, not knowing where she was going but absolutely certain that she was on the right path. She was still wearing the dress from the day prior, and her sister’s knife was hanging from her belt, so she was glad to find a stream to freshen up.   
The forest around her was somewhat strange. All the trees acted like they did when autumn had just began, meaning that the leaves were reddish and brown, but none had fallen to the ground. The grass was not dry, but green and still wet from the morning dew. She almost wanted to take of her shoes and walk barefoot. She remembered she could, and so she did, taking her shoes in hand and strolling slowly until she stumbled upon a clearing.  
There, she heard a person breathe.  
“Hello”, she said, not feeling any kind of fear for some reason. Her confidence was proven right when a familiar male came out from the middle of the trees. He was tall and dark, and his eyes were somewhat weary. Nesta knew him.   
“Helion”. Her tone was flat and her voice unfeeling, and the High Lord of the Day Court nodded and answered with a whispered version of her name.  
“What brings you here?” He asked, walking towards her cautiously. She tilted her head to the side and drew up a small smile.  
“I could ask you the exact same thing”, was her answer, and now her tone was dangerous. “Did you lose something?”  
“Indeed. Many years ago. Something I appreciated very much was taken from me”.  
Suddenly, Nesta had a feeling, and she rose her right hand, where the bracelet she’d found was, and gestured vaguely towards him. “Is this it?” She asked, and when his eyes fell upon the jewel and immediately widened, she knew it was.  
“Why do you have it?” He asked, and she shrugged.  
“Do you have any food?” She questioned instead of answering, and he looked so dumbfounded she almost chuckled. “I’m hungry, and I have the bracelet you want.”  
Then, he smiled. It was a little, shy thing, but it was a smile. He reached out an arm and probably summoned something, because when she blinked, there was a bag in his hand and a chair behind him, with another one close by.   
“Shall we?” he asked, and they sat down. Helion handed her a piece of meat pie and she began eating.   
“You seem a lot nicer than the last time we met”, he commented, drinking something from a pouch and offering it to her. When she took it and smelled wine, she felt a relevant choice right before her, and decided to decline.  
“You’re not trying to fuck me now”, she answered. “That makes you significantly less annoying.”  
Helion chuckled. “Many females would’ve been flattered.”  
“I’m not many females. They can’t see the truth about you.”  
“Oh, and you can?”  
“Yes”, she said, simply, and raised the bracelet again. “I can see that you’re still feeling things for whoever this belongs to.”  
Helion looked away, his breathing suddenly slower, his voice more serious than ever when he whispered that she was very sharp indeed.  
“I won’t ask who”, she declared. “I have no interest in it. You can have the bracelet. I took it for you.”  
“You did?”  
“I didn’t know it at the time but yes, I did.” She removed the jewel from her arm and handed it over to the male beside her. “I don’t know much about letting the past go”, she began, “but my sister would say it’s very relevant if you want to live your life”.  
Helion took the bracelet and gave her a sad smile she knew not many people got to see. “I don’t know much about it either,” his voice was soft now, pain making it incredibly kind, “but I am certain of this; I cannot live my life without my heart”.  
Nesta looked at the bracelet again and nodded, understanding. She must be a very interesting female, she thought, if she had managed to keep such a male so deeply in love with her for such a long time—for the pain Helion’s voice and eyes talked about seemed ancient.  
“Here”, he said, and he must’ve summoned the bag he was handing to her when she wasn’t looking, because she had no memory of it. “Dinner”, he explained, and he smiled lightly, his frivolous personality back on. “If you tell me why you keep poor Cassian in the dark”.  
“About what?” She asked, and he raised an eyebrow, understanding her through some strange connection she couldn’t understand. “I only keep him in the dark because I am there myself”.  
Helion laughed and shook his head, whispering something along the lines of “poor bastard”.  
“He might be a bastard”, she said, a small smile on her lips for absolutely no reason at all, “but he doesn’t need your pity.” She looked up at him through thick eyelashes. “Or your cock”.  
Helion laughed again and held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Message received”, he answered. “I’ll leave him alone”.  
“Good”, she said. “Because he would’ve eventually hit you.”  
They both laughed this time, the sound so rare and new that all the creatures around them seem to quiet down for fear of scaring it.  
*****

Cassian received a message from Helion before dinner.  
“I saw her”, it said. “She’s safe”.  
Even though he wanted to, he didn’t write back asking where, or how, they’d met, but simply thanked his friend silently before sitting at the table with his brothers. Az and Rhys had come to his house to eat and plan, Mor staying in Velaris using Elain as an excuse and Feyre still on her way.  
“We need to focus now that we got Nesta back”, Rhys said, looking straight at him, and Cassian held up his hands.  
“I get it, I get it”, his voice was full of mockery. “I would’ve liked to see you if Feyre had been taken”.  
“Feyre is my mate”, Rhys answered, his voice wild as it always was when he said that word. “And she can hold her own”.  
‘So can Nesta’, Cassian thought, but chose to keep quiet.  
“What do we know of the Illyrian army?” Rhys asked then, turning to Azriel. His brother took out a map of the Mountains and began pointing out places where he’d spotted the rebels. He had almost finished when Feyre made her appearance, a frown decorating her face.  
“I come bearing a message from Elain” were her first words. As always, Azriel straightened at the mention of that name, and all three of them stared expectantly at their High Lady. “She said we must ‘watch out for the children of the fog’”.  
“I’ll keep it in mind”, Cassian said, and Feyre sat down by his side, across from Rhys and Azriel. After hesitating for a second, he decided to say: “I received a message from Helion. He saw your sister. Said she was safe”.  
Feyre looked at him, head tilted to one side, so similar to Nesta he had to restrain a smile. “Well, if Helion says so”, she paused for a moment and looked at Rhys. “I wonder what Helion was doing there”.  
“Perhaps he’d lost something”, Rhys answered.  
“Hey, wait a moment”, Cassian intervened. “She knows where Nesta is?”  
“I do”.  
“Why? That’s not fair!”  
“She’s my sister”, Feyre shrugged, a slow smile on her face.  
“She’s my—”he interrupted himself, understanding the reason behind Feyre’s smile.  
“She’s your what, Cassian?” His High Lady asked, clearly mocking, and he gave her a look that promised death. “Yeah, thought so”.  
“Can we go back to the actual war, please?” Rhys asked, even though he was clearly enjoying himself.  
“That depends on whether our dear High Lady is done with me”, Cassian answered, still looking at Feyre.  
“Well, darling?”, Rhys smiled. “Are you satisfied?”  
“I’m happy for the moment, yes” Feyre answered, and they finally went back to the war


	7. Enjoy the silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some violence, but none of it graphic.  
> It’s a pretty emotional chapter, at least the second half, and pretty happy with how it turned out. However, I’m also insecure, so please comment.

A week passed in almost complete silence. The forest seemed to be welcoming her, somehow, and she found herself getting used to her new routine. She began eating plants she found around the house, things that some deep part of her knew wouldn’t hurt her, and the water near the cabin was drinkable.

However, after an entire week of eating plants, she thought it was time to try to find some meat. She stood, however, and for a long time, before the shelves at the side of the cabin, staring at the objects there. There was a black small bag that called for her, but she hesitated. With Helion’s bracelet, she had known what she was holding, but this... After a few moments, she shrugged and took it anyway. What could happen?

She left the cabin with her bag at her side, walking slowly but surely, her instinct somehow knowing where she had to go, and suddenly she found herself before a cave. It was pitch black, but she felt she had to go in.

So she did, feeling eerily calm, even when darkness engulfed her like it had back in that Illyrian hole. Here, however, the darkness seemed friendly, like Feyre’s sort of darkness, like Rhysand’s when his mate was near.

So she began walking, and soon the air started to smell like chestnuts and rain, and she knew she was near the Autumn Court. Her theory was proven when she walked out back into the light and saw that everything around her was brown and red, from the leaves in the trees to the grass beneath her feet. She heard noises, so she walked in their direction and found herself in a small town, far enough from their High Lord that they could afford to live simple, happy lives.

The market dominated the streets and squares of the town, and she strolled around for a while, exchanging some of the coins she’d taken from the Riverhouse for meat, both fresh and salted, to eat in following days.

She had been walking for about an hour when she felt someone following her. However, she decided to let it go until she’d finished with her business. When she was done with her shopping, she walked into a small alley and waited.

She didn’t wait long.

“I was wondering when you’d let yourself be seen”, Nesta said to the male before her.

He gave her a small, knowing smile and said: “I was wondering when you’d show that you knew I was here”.

Nesta shrugged. “I was shopping”.

“The sister of the High Lady of the Night Court was just shopping”, he said, and he clearly didn’t believe her. “What a coincidence. I wonder if my father would feel the same”.

Nesta couldn’t stop her mocking grin from appearing in her face.

“Please, don’t play me for a fool. Stop threatening me with your father when we both know you’re the one who holds the power here”.

“Perhaps”, Eris admitted, stepping closer to her and putting a finger before his lips. “But don’t tell my father”.

Nesta gifted him a small smile and tilted her head. “Now that we’ve established the reason for my being here, it’s time to talk about yours”.

“I do not have to explain myself to you, female” he answered, the word so insultingly pronounced that she almost believed it. Almost.

“Drop the act. I’ve spent too much time being a bullshitter to be deceived by one”, she said instead, and he let out a surprised chuckle. She remembered the bag she had taken, and so she put her hand in her pocket and held it out to him. “Is this yours?”

Eris looked at it for a second, then at her, and then frowned very slightly.

“It is. Where did you find it?”

Nesta smiled and put a finger before her lips, mirroring him. He shook his head, smiling again, and took the small bag. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Not really”, she answered. “I have no interest.”

He stared at her, visibly doubting whether to believe her or not, but he ended up loosening the string that closed the bag. He took out what seemed to be a small wooden toy, a fox, painted red. Eris looked at it, his face completely impassive even as his eyes softened. Nesta had a feeling then, an idea as to who that toy might’ve belonged to once, but she chose to keep quiet.

Eris but the toy back in the bag and tilted his head, clearly trying to decipher her. Why had she given it to him? He seemed to be wondering. Why hadn’t she asked about it?

“How’s your mother?” She asked instead, forcing him out of his head as he answered:

“She’s fine. Why do you care?”

“She’s Lucien’s mother”, Nesta answered. “He might like to hear about her”.

“Tell him she’s alright. Father no longer pays her any attention.” He kept quiet for a second before carrying on: “Tell him she misses him. Every day, she talks about him. She doesn’t forget him or resent him at all, ever.”

“Not even for killing his brothers?” Nesta asked, for she had heard the story from Feyre.

Eris hesitated. “Not even for that”, he answered at last. “She knows he had no choice”.

Nesta nodded and left the alley, because there was nothing left to say.

She found her way back to the cave and walked through the darkness and back to her cabin, feeling somewhat sated.

*****

 

For some reason that escaped Cassian’s understanding, Lucien was the first one to receive a message from Nesta. It was a short, and delivered by Amren, so it wasn’t much, but still enough to piss him off.

The small devil had walked into the living room at the Riverhouse and spoken directly to the fox for what seemed the first time: “Nesta says your mother is fine. She missed you and doesn’t blame you or resent you for anything you’ve ever done; not even killing your brothers. I don’t know how she knows this, so don’t ask”.

And she had left, leaving them all dumbfounded and Lucien looking very much tense.

“That was random even for my sister” Feyre said, and Lucien let out a nervous laugh and relaxed a little bit.

“She is rather extravagant”, he answered, and she smiled at him. Cassian marveled once more at her ability to make any situation comfortable.

“She probably heard it from the wind or something” he felt the liberty to add, even as he felt his nerves clutching his muscles into a tight knot; Azriel still hadn’t come back from his mission in Illyria. Rhys looked as calm as ever, his arm outstretched over her mate’s shoulders, but Cassian knew him well enough to see the tension in his jaw.

Finally, Azriel came back, looking gloomier than usual, his eyes devoid of the mischief Cassian loved to provoke. “There’s something you must see”, his brother said, and Cassian instinctively knew that whatever he was about to see, it would be bad. He still followed his brother, though. He would always follow his brothers, even to death’s doorway. Did it sound dramatic? Like Mor when someone stole her food. Was it true? Always.

Azriel led them to Rhys’ dungeons beneath the Hewn City. There was an Illyrian there, hanging from both arms as they were shackled to the wall. His head was down and his wings were bleeding. Probably a scout Azriel had stumbled upon while on his mission. It was strange that he was still alive though, and had been so obviously beaten up, when Az’s usual reaction to unexpected enemies was a swift and painless death after a quick interrogation.

“What is it?” Cassian asked then, and the looks he got from Rhys and Azriel meant that he was the only one who didn’t get whatever was happening. He was used to it, after five centuries of being the only one who didn’t have some strange way to know what someone was thinking. He was also used to deciphering what his brothers were thinking from the looks on their eyes, and he did not like what he was seeing.

He looked back at the Illyrian. His uniform was pretty regular, but Cassian could always tell the difference between camps. This one was from one of the worst ones, located... located...

“He’s one of them, isn’t he?” He asked. “One of _them_ ”.

One of the males who’d... who’d...

“Yes”, Azriel answered, and now Cassian understood the wild glimmer in his eyes, for as much as Azriel wasn’t particularly fond of Nesta, he would never simply stand and watch females be hurt so cruelly and not retaliate. “Yes”, Azriel said again, and this time the word hit harder, somehow.

He wanted to kill someone. He wanted to kill the male in front of him. Everything seemed blurry all of a sudden, and he couldn’t see with the rage that had finally come up from the lower part of his back to live on the back of his mouth, choking him, like a giant claw trying to tear out his throat and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _breathe_ , he had never been so angry because it hadn’t been him who’d been hurt, or his long gone mother, or even Azriel and Morrigan. It was Nesta. _Nesta_. Nesta, who had been so—so mean—so strong, so cruel, so relentless and so powerful through _everything_ that had happened to her, and had still remained vulnerable, somehow. From the very beginning, he’d wanted to hold her and throttle her at once. Nesta, so incredibly beautiful, and far away, and dignified and terrible, and always caring so much that it destroyed her—it burned her from the inside out. He’d once though that there were no words to describe her, but he knew better now. She was raw—raw, pure, uncontained power, even before she was Fae, and—Cauldron he loved her—he loved her so much.

 

Everything was quiet.

The noise in his head had gone away, and everything was silent again. He could feel his brothers beside him, one on each side, and he could see the Illyrian before him, if you could still call him that, destroyed as he was, and he felt shame for a split second—he hadn’t lost control like that since his mother’s death—before remembering who he was, and then there was no way he would ever feel sorry for him again.

He fell to his knees, and it was like he was kneeling before her, apologizing for something that he knew wasn’t his fault. He didn’t apologize out loud, though. There was no point, because she wasn’t there and she wouldn’t have cared for it anyway. She would probably tell him to stop being an idiotic bat and realize that it hadn’t been his fault at all. Even if he felt guilt pulling down from his stomach.

He realized he was crying. He didn’t feel shame for it. He never had before, and it was too late to begin now, when only his brothers were there to witness it.

“He’s dead”, Rhys said, and there was no emotion in his voice. He wasn’t judging. He never did. So Cassian was able to get up and nod, ignoring the wet streaks on his cheeks.

There was a long silence. Azriel and Rhys looked at each other. They were worried. And so he found a way to speak:

“She’s my mate”.

There was no doubt in his voice, as there was no doubt in his heart. She was his mate. Even if she chose to never come back and never speak to him again, even if they both fell in love with other people, she would always have a part of his heart. And in that moment, in that dungeon hidden beneath a hellhole, he accepted that fact.


End file.
